Disruption
by rosetylerrox
Summary: Michael and Sara fall through the rift into Torchwood Cardiff, but they are out of time and out of place. When the rift is open between worlds, who knows what will fall through? Please review and tell me what you think. Reviews updates


_Author notes: So I changed things around at Torchwood. Gwen is very different, but that will all be explained. The crossover happens during Flight: Michael is taken just as the plane flies away and Sara is taken just before she ODs. I'd really appreciate reviews, because I'm not sure whether I should continue this story and I want to know what you guys think._

Chapter One: We're sorry to interrupt this programme…

"You're kidding me," Jack muttered as he stared at the CCTV footage from last night. This wasn't supposed to happen. Really, it wasn't. Of all people! He cursed that woman for her amazingly bad taste in men and tried to ignore the question nagging at the back of his mind: _Why…?_ It didn't matter. He was Captain Jack Harkness, for God's sake, if he hadn't worked out how to get over disappointments yet, he was pretty much screwed. He stopped the onslaught of thoughts for a minute and concentrated on breathing in and out – something he'd increasingly forgotten to do ever since Gwen Cooper joined _his_ team. He wasn't entirely sure why she kept throwing him off-balance, but he figured it was something to do with the fact that she'd managed to worm her way into the minds of everyone at Torchwood and make her mark permanent. He was pretty sure that if the time came, they would all side with her and not him. The thought scared him, because he had a feeling he would give in to her just as easily as the rest of them. To anything. Still, he just had to hope that he never had to find out.

That thought brought him rather forcefully back to the issue at hand, this being the fact that Miss I-Own-You-All had been quite determinedly demonstrating her ownership of Owen Harper last night. He was reluctantly impressed with her skill; after all he didn't often see the resident cynic scream like that. It was strange, though. He hadn't thought that Owen and Gwen had enough in common to get into this, but maybe that was old-fashioned. He snorted to himself. Living through the twentieth century really had repressed his ideas about sexuality. If he'd known two hundred years ago that he'd end up like this…well, it would have been embarrassing, to say the least. He knew that people didn't need anything in common to get into bed together these days. Where he was from, you didn't even have to share the same species. It was probably something to do with Rhys…

That was when it happened. A sudden colossal pain gripped his insides and twisted them around with the awful feeling of _wrong. _There was something really bad happening. Something that shouldn't be happening but was and Jack was pretty sure that if he could die, he would be doing so instead of enduring this agony. He closed his eyes and waited patiently for the other shoe to drop. _CRASH. _He almost rolled his eyes. Why couldn't bad things happen quietly instead of ruffling up all the pieces of paper on his desk and being generally obnoxious? He had to file these reports with UNIT tomorrow and he really couldn't be bothered to re-order them again.

"What?!" A man's voice broke out from downstairs and Jack paused a moment. That really couldn't be good. If it were a member of his team, they wouldn't be in such shock. So it must be a civilian, which meant things could get a little complicated. "_Sara_." The voice gasped. Two civilians, then, and by the sounds of it they had a serious case of romantic issues. He had an idea of what the Doctor would say: _humans_, but then again he could hardly talk. In fact, his not-talking to Rose was the issue. Jack thought for a minute: would they go away if he ignored them and continued to dwell on the dilemma that was Gwen Cooper? Knowing the rift, they probably wouldn't disappear for a good fifty years yet and their whole lives would be a mess. He sighed, making his decision.

Upon reaching the ground floor of the Hub, Jack was greeted with the sight of two exceptionally attractive people and he wondered whether it was Christmas already. Then he noticed the expressions on their faces. The girl's eyes were glazed in shock and she was obviously not reacting to her surroundings or to the man who was desperately trying to get her attention. His eyes were full of fear and confusion: he obviously didn't know what was happening to her. Looked like Jack was going to have to call Owen. He winced a little at the thought, but decided not to think about it. He walked over to Gwen's desk and dialled Owen's home. He picked up on the third ring sounding vaguely annoyed. And slightly drunk.

"Owen, I've got a woman in shock. Get down here now." The other man muttered something about 'ridiculous hours' and 'where the hell does he find these women?' before hanging up, leaving the vague impression that he was coming but that he wouldn't be in the best of moods when he arrived. Jack looked round to find the strange man glaring at him with suspicion.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded, the agony in his eyes belying the accusation in his voice. This man wasn't blaming Jack; he was convinced it was all somehow his fault. Cute, but guilt was Jack's department.

"I haven't done anything. You've fallen through a rift in time and space…I'm sorry. I don't know how to get you guys back." He watched as a multitude of emotions flitted across the other man's face: disbelief, anger, confusion and finally, panic. He turned to the redhead beside him and stared into her eyes, obviously searching for something, most likely something that would assure him that she was still there. His face crumpled completely when he couldn't find it and he sat on the floor next to her, staring up at Jack in what looked like defeat.

"What's your name?" Jack figured that 'blue-eyed-broken-guy' was not the best way to begin addressing the other man. Besides, it sounded too much like a self-portrait.

"I'm Michael Scofield. This is…" he stared at the girl, looking lost. "Sara." He whispered her name like she was sleeping and he was terrified to wake her. Jack nodded slowly.

"You're from America. You sound like Chicago. What year was it when you left?" Michael looked up in surprise, but then he seemed to realise that after being snatched out of the middle of a break out and transported to some weird secret base, the year being called into question was the least of his worries.

"2005. May twenty-fifth, I think. And yes, I'm from Chicago. I can't quite place your accent though…you sound like Illinois too, but it's strange." Michael frowned, obviously not liking the idea of not understanding something. Jack immediately knew that this guy was clever: not just above average either. He could see Michael looking around, processing everything like he was cataloguing the whole place for later. Jack just smiled slightly and winked, making the other man jump again in surprise before unconsciously rearranging himself to be closer to Sara. _Shame_, Jack thought. _That guy has the most beautiful eyes_.

"What is it, then?" Owen yelled tactlessly as he strolled through the cog door. Jack turned raise his eyebrows at his team member and Michael seemed fascinated by the machinery operating the door. Owen looked over Jack's shoulder at the blue-eyed man and snorted. "Great, strays."

"Excuse Owen, Michael. His mother never taught him tact." Michael smiled slightly.

"I'm sure she would have. Had she any time or patience for me." Owen's derivative comment would have sounded self-pitying if anyone else had said it, but somehow he managed to come of with nothing but pissed-off and slightly sarcastic. Typical Owen. Unfortunately, Jack was all-too aware of the truth behind the simple statement. "Where's the casualty, then?" He looked around before spotting Sara, and all bravado instantly died. He went over to check her vitals, bringing out a small torch from his jeans to check her pupil response. "Bollocks," he said simply. "She's gone into shock, but she'll come out of it eventually."

"How long?" Michael asked, hesitantly.

"It's hard to say. Do you know if she was drinking or taking anything before this happened?"

"I have no idea. I wasn't anywhere near her. As far as I know, she was at home. I was in the middle of an air field, a few miles away from Fox River, with a plane going over my head. Leaving us all behind." Michael sounded furious with himself. "Plan A is out the window and plan B won't work unless I get back…if I can't get back they'll kill him…" He muttered that last bit to himself, as the situation finally hit him with all its terrifying truths. Sara flinched. Something in his voice must have found her, wherever she was. Michael's eyes widened and he reached for her hand, grasping hold of it as if he were trying to pull her out of the ocean. Owen and Jack shared a look of understanding. There was clearly a lot going on here.

"Michael…?" His grip tightened and her eyelids fluttered slightly, as they started to lose their glazed look and she began to process her environment. "Michael what's going on?" Her words were slightly blurry and Owen frowned. He had a feeling she had been drinking quite a bit before she got here, which would explain why she'd been so vulnerable to shock. Her brain wasn't working properly with the alcohol depressing neural functions.

"I'm not sure, Sara. They say we've fallen through…well, we've moved." He finished, feeling stupid. He was worried that mentioning a 'rift in time and space' may make her go back into shock. Her eyes finally focused on her face and he was surprised to see her expression swiftly turn to anger. She slapped him, hard.

"I hate you, Michael Scofield," she stated with conviction. "I was about to have a _relapse_ because of you." Michael looked faintly horrified and Owen would have laughed if this had been any other situation.

"A relapse? I didn't know you were a…" he trailed off, unsure.

"A what? A junkie? Yeah, well. Sorry to disappoint. Don't worry, you're not the only one. Everyone's always _disappointed_." Michael was surprised at the bitter tone in her voice. He was used to her cynicism, but he'd never seen her like this. He just wanted to reach out and hold her to make it all go away, but he had a feeling affection wouldn't be welcome at the moment. She hadn't yet noticed that he was holding her hand, so she may not be entirely functioning yet but he didn't want to push it. Instead he simply stared at her, sat on the floor next to him, and wondered how someone so broken could be so beautiful.

"What was it? Coke?" She snorted in derision, as if that were below her standards.

"Morphine. Hospital-grade morphine." Owen quickly glanced down to the autopsy bay (or med bay, depending on whether they had visitors) to his drug supply, vowing to find the time to hide the morphine as soon as he got the chance. Jack merely watched the exchange with a feeling of detachment. He'd seen this so often, now: drug use and abuse. He'd done them a few times himself (after all, he had lived through the '60s), but for some reason his body's state meant that he metabolised them fast and addictions didn't form very quickly, and if they did they would be gone by the time he woke up from his next death. Besides, drugs weren't Sara's problem. The problems were far deeper than that, there was much more to Michael's and Sara's stories than they were saying.

"Sara?" Her eyes raised to meet his, widening right on cue and he fought to keep the smug smile off his face. _Still got it_. "My name's Jack Harkness. You're in Cardiff and this is the Torchwood Hub." He gestured to their surroundings. "Sara, you have to tell me what happened before you came here. What was going through your mind? It could help us figure out why you're here and how you can get back." _**If**__ you can get back_,but he didn't say that part out loud. She took a deep breath and glanced at Michael before she began. She really wished he wasn't here, that he didn't hear how badly he'd gotten to her and how messed up she really was. She knew he'd blame himself for what happened and what had been about to happen, and although part of her wanted him to feel guilty – too feel the pain that she felt – a larger part of her loved him, although she would never admit it.

"I suppose I should start with Lincoln. He's a prisoner on death row…and he's Michael's brother." Sara went on to explain Lincoln's case, the conspiracy and giving the information to her father, the governor, in an effort to save the innocent man's life. "He didn't grant him clemency and I didn't know what else to do. They rescheduled Lincoln's execution and it felt like this was going to be the end. Then Michael…he told me he was breaking out. And that he was taking his brother with him. All I had to do was leave the door open…commit a crime. I went to a bar…" Michael looked up worriedly at this point, but she shook her head to indicate that she hadn't drunk. Not then, at least. Everyone present had figured out the drugs weren't her only addiction. "I saw my father on the TV; he was running for vice president. I couldn't believe it. I went to see him and asked him whether he'd looked through the notes I'd given him on Lincoln's case and he said he hadn't. I don't know why I bothered being surprised. I knew there was something wrong the moment I learned that President Reynolds, the head of this whole conspiracy, was looking favourably on him…" She paused and swallowed back her tears. The betrayal was still fresh. The fact that he wouldn't listen to her - or even bother pretending that he cared about what mattered to her - still hurt her way too much. She felt a hand squeeze hers and looked down in surprise. She hadn't even realised Michael had taken her hand; it had just felt so natural.

"I knew what I had to do, but it didn't mean I liked it." Michael realised she'd left him out of the whole explanation, even though it was clear that he was part of what was going on in her head. He looked over at Jack and saw the same knowledge reflected back at him.

"Sara, you're going to have to be honest about this. I know that's not all. When you came back to us, you blamed Michael immediately for what had happened to you. Your explanation barely mentions him at all." Jack gave her a hard look and she knew she didn't have a choice on this one.

"He lied to me," she whispered, almost too quiet to be heard. Michael heard. It felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "He lied to me. So many times, about everything. He lied to me, but he saved my life. He betrayed me but he asked me to wait for him. He put me in a position where I had no choice but to commit a crime, but he did it all because he loved his brother. Lincoln's innocent and I couldn't let him die. Maybe there was more to it than just saving an innocent man's life, but that has to be the most significant part, right?" Jack looked at her and smiled slightly. She loved Michael: he could see it in her eyes and in her actions. She'd destroyed herself by trying to save him and his brother, but ultimately he had a feeling she would do it all over again if she had the choice.

"So what were you thinking? You went back to the prison, left the door open…stole some morphine and left. You went home, got steadily drunk and tried to resist the call of the needle. But alcohol wasn't doing it for you and you were just about to give in…and now you're here. There's just one more thing you need to say." He looked her in the eye and knew that although he was being cruel, this was the only way to get it out of her. "One more thing, Sara. You know what it is." All eyes turned to the redhead, who was clearly trying to shrink into herself and become unnoticed. Unfortunately, it wasn't working.

"I…I was thinking about him. I wished we had a chance to be together, to work this out. I wanted him to tell me the truth for once. I wanted him to tell me whether he really felt anything or whether it was all part of his _stupid_ plan. I just…" she swallowed, the anguish in her eyes almost tangible. Michael looked like he was holding his breath, waiting for the final blow. "I didn't want to live without knowing."

"That's it, then. That's why you're here. We'll deal with the how later, at least we have the why. At least, we have from you." He turned his glare to Michael. Owen was suddenly very glad that he wasn't under Jack's scrutiny at the moment. These were some truly messed up people. He watched with interest as Michael sighed and looked at Sara, who was attempting to hide behind a veil of hair. He smiled sadly.

"We'd managed it. We'd broken out of Fox River and were on the run. It was almost surreal how perfectly everything had worked out. I knew the plan was perfect, but people sometimes intervene and things get messy." He smiled again, thinking about Haywire and Sucre. Then he remembered Charles Westmoreland and T-Bag and winced with shame. "Plan A was a plane to pick us up at an airfield near Fox River, organised by John Abruzzi, who was big with the mob. When it left, I guess I just remembered everything that had already gone wrong…I never meant to involve you, Sara." She winced at the mention of her name and buried her face in her knees, avoiding his eyes. "That's what I was thinking. I wished I had never involved her and I wished I could earn her forgiveness, but I feared that I would be dead before I got the chance." There was silence for a few minutes, as Michael and Sara processed what had been said. Jack and Owen got up to work out what to do next. Jack glanced at the clock; it was almost half past six in the morning. He decided that it was time to call in the rest of the team and figure out what to do next.

"Tosh!" he greeted his favourite computer genius with a cheesy grin, even though she couldn't see him from the other side of town. "Would you like to do some overtime?"

"Why not?" she muttered, exhausted. She had never quite mastered the art of sarcasm. She said she was heading in and then hung up. The conversation with Ianto went much the same, only with a few more 'sir's which did not go unappreciated. Gwen was slightly different.

"What happened? This better be good, Harkness." She sounded thoroughly pissed and this only made Jack's grin wider.

"We've got a couple of rift victims with a fascinating romantic background."

"Can't these people wait until at least eight before dropping by?" She groaned.

"I'm sorry. I'll be sure to inform the rift of your office hours." He laughed easily. Gwen groaned again, muttering something about 'Jack bloody Harkness' before hanging up. He vaguely wished that his team would speak more clearly sometimes. Gwen had Owen had the muttered-complaints thing in common…he winced and changed his mental subject.

****

Half an hour later, everyone was present and correct. Owen had managed to hide the morphine supply in the morgue and was now testing Michael and Sara for any negative effects the rift had had on their health. Tosh was analysing rift activity around the time the two strangers had arrived and Gwen was alternating between helping her, glaring at Jack and admiring his butt. Mostly in that order.

"Those two…" Tosh muttered, startling Gwen out of her latest daze. She had come to realise that Jack's butt looked even better if she turned her head slightly to the right.

"What?" Gwen attempted to look innocent, but Tosh just rolled her eyes.

"Look, it's been nearly two years since Rhys. What's stopping you now?" Gwen looked down and swallowed. Thinking about Rhys still hurt, but it hadn't stopped her from moving on with her life and coming to Torchwood. The team had never met him, because they'd arrived too late and the Weevil had already killed him. The only comfort she had ever found was that it had been quick – Weevils head right for the jugular. When the team arrived they found her holding Rhys' body, hardly able to process what had happened. They explained it all slowly and she was furious. She went crazy: scouring the city for information about them, because she believed it was their fault that she had lost her fiancé. They tried to Retcon her so many times that she didn't even feel it anymore, but it didn't work because she kept a diary about everything that happened. She had been so paranoid that she expected them to come after her, so every time she lost her memory, she read her diary and remembered. And hated them all over again, picking up where she left off. It could take days or weeks, but she always remembered. The Torchwood team never found out about this, but they realised that their usual methods weren't working and that she needed a more direct approach.

That was when Jack arrived on her doorstep. She tried to kill him, because all she could see was blood all over her hands from her failure and his and _theirs_. He took her fists and her threats and her mindless use of kitchen knives which had obviously no effect on the immortal man. Eventually she gave up and broke down. It was horrible, but afterwards she was finally in a position to listen. And she did. He talked to her all night about Torchwood and aliens and what they were doing. She came to understand the horrible guilt he felt in not being able to save everyone, when he could survive anything.

That was when it started, she supposed. The attraction she had for him, but he had never returned it so she took out her sexual frustration on Owen after hours. She had a feeling he knew what was going on, but didn't mind as long as it got him laid. She should probably hate him for that, but she was using him too. She wondered sometimes what Rhys would think about the person she had become. She didn't even recognise herself sometimes: the hardened woman in the mirror who had already lost so much and had to fight everyday for anything she had left.

"It's complicated, Tosh. I mean, he's immortal. You saw what happened with Estelle, I don't want him to go through that again and I don't think he'd let himself either. I don't want to be a quick shag either, or even fuck buddies. At least this way I get to be his friend." She sighed and Tosh looked at her hard, trying to determine whether there was more to it. Gwen stared right back, because they both knew there was. Gwen was terrified to fall in love again. Jack may not be able to die, but he was still perfectly capable of leaving. Both women looked away at the same time and continued working in silence.

It was at this rare moment of quiet that the rift alarm began to scream.


End file.
